We see the wild-faced moon in skies far-off, The bare and weary light of undimmed sun, And Caesar’s glittering eagles leading on The thoughtless people, who, with jeer and scoff, An abject God in proud derision scorn, Alike from barren shade and living presence turn. O weary thought! hath earth lost sight of Him? And do her children with dulled vision grope, With fain-believing heart and doubting hope, His cross a parable with meaning dim? A shadow resting in the feeble clasp Of them that fear the bitterness of truth to grasp? Is all that sorrow of the Son of Man A dreary darkness shutting out the light? Poor human pain dwarfing eternal might? An o’ergrown bramble with its prickly span Piercing the delicate leaves of earth-born flowers, And blighting with harsh touch kind nature’s generous powers? Alas! that men that Infinite Love should fear, Should dread its glory and its shade despise, Banish its semblance from imploring eyes, Give men but empty shadow to revere— Blind beggars leaving them unto whose cry None answereth when He of Nazareth goes by. Of this sad modern world of ours to-day The artist’s picture seemeth counterpart, When men erase old lessons from the heart, Striving who farthest from the cross may stray— Swift, swift descending ’neath the eagles’ shine, Some longing face still turned to meet the gaze divine. In her long-ordered way the earth moves on, The moon doth change with steady law her face, Swift-growing grass still hides our footsteps’ trace, And dew falls softly when the day is done: All nature’s tale seems old, but one thing strange— The Christ of God a shade the westering sun shall change! Nay, fear not! Stand to-day as e’er of old The faithful Maries, who brave vigil keep, The loved disciple with a love as deep As in old days lay shrined in heart of gold; And rests God’s patience till from shadowed sod The piercing cry break forth, “This was the Son of God.” A BISHOP’S LIBERTY OF CONSCIENCE IN THE NEW GERMAN EMPIRE.[9]